Read Online Sound of Butterflies, The by Rachael King - Free Book Online
Authors: Rachael King
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explorers and collectors keep meticulous records not only of their bounty, but of their personal experiences on the Amazon? Perhaps one day my experiences will be published. Edited, of course. Perhaps I will be considered to be a pioneer of natural history, too. But no. I must not say perhaps . I will be a great explorer. I will make my name on this journey or be doomed to an insignificant life, my only excitement a little roast beef on Sunday. I am not stupid. I am aware of my shortcomings in the field of scientific knowledge. But I will rise above them as soon as I bring home a magnificent Papilio sophia.
We have been here now nearly four weeks. I could easily stay here for a year — there are about 700 different species of butterfly around Belém, compared with only 66 in the whole of England! I estimate that I have caught and documented only half of these so far. I have had better luck with catching some of the high fliers — one of the boys that hangs around and helps us showed me how a bright blue rag is most useful in attracting the male Morpho rhetenor (but not the female, strangely). I leave it draped over a plant and it comes down to investigate, whereby I step out from my hiding place and voila! It is mine. My hands were shaking so much the first time that I missed it, so excited was I at seeing it up close.
I have also fashioned a long-handled net, but this is terribly awkward to carry around with me. It is 20 feet long, and I can’t walk through the forest without banging into things and inevitably bruising myself. When I do use it, it is cumbersome to wave about, too, although I have managed to catch one or two slow-moving female rhetenors with it. How dull they are compared with their mates! No iridescent blue for them, but a turgid brown. On their own, they may be considered attractive enough, but with a mate so beautiful, they cannot help but feel like the dowdy wife of a handsome dandy, I’m sure.
When I first arrived, I thought that I should never be able to catch one of these lofty species. Now that I have, I see that anything is within my grasp. Anything!
John is anxious to move on. Last night he put into words what we all knew in our hearts — Belém is not the Amazon rainforest. We are too close to civilisation. My walks through the forest are often interrupted with the cloying presence of man, whether in the sounds of shouting from some neighbours’ dispute, or the devastating rape of the beautiful forest to make way for the progress of the city. While John has found more than 20 specimens of palms alone, all with distinct native names, he often stands very still and looks to the north-west, as if listening for the depths of the forest calling his name. While I am not sure that I will necessarily find such an abundance of lepidoptera upriver, I do know that the only sightings of my giant butterfly have been near Manaus, not down this far. Therefore, as much as I am stimulated here, I am impatient to move on also.
Ernie, too, complains that the most exotic birds do not exist so close to a city, although he has learned where to find them. When we first arrived he seemed to catch only the smaller and more common birds. Now he brings back exotic parrots and toucans and macaws. He is establishing a fine collection.
We have prepared our first consignment to send to Mr Ridewell — at last count we had 323 species of lepidoptera (butterflies mostly — I confess that moths hold little interest for me and George collected most of them), 400-odd beetles, 32 different species of bird, some lizards and snakes, and nine chests of plants, with countless dried seeds. Ernie plans to take live specimens back at the end of the trip. He wants to be able to accompany them, and he will dispose of them at various zoos with which he is in regular contact.
Nobody has taken to collecting the numerous great spiders that are about the place. There is one — a ghastly hairy thing it is — called a mygale, of which
We have been here now nearly four weeks. I could easily stay here for a year — there are about 700 different species of butterfly around Belém, compared with only 66 in the whole of England! I estimate that I have caught and documented only half of these so far. I have had better luck with catching some of the high fliers — one of the boys that hangs around and helps us showed me how a bright blue rag is most useful in attracting the male Morpho rhetenor (but not the female, strangely). I leave it draped over a plant and it comes down to investigate, whereby I step out from my hiding place and voila! It is mine. My hands were shaking so much the first time that I missed it, so excited was I at seeing it up close.
I have also fashioned a long-handled net, but this is terribly awkward to carry around with me. It is 20 feet long, and I can’t walk through the forest without banging into things and inevitably bruising myself. When I do use it, it is cumbersome to wave about, too, although I have managed to catch one or two slow-moving female rhetenors with it. How dull they are compared with their mates! No iridescent blue for them, but a turgid brown. On their own, they may be considered attractive enough, but with a mate so beautiful, they cannot help but feel like the dowdy wife of a handsome dandy, I’m sure.
When I first arrived, I thought that I should never be able to catch one of these lofty species. Now that I have, I see that anything is within my grasp. Anything!
John is anxious to move on. Last night he put into words what we all knew in our hearts — Belém is not the Amazon rainforest. We are too close to civilisation. My walks through the forest are often interrupted with the cloying presence of man, whether in the sounds of shouting from some neighbours’ dispute, or the devastating rape of the beautiful forest to make way for the progress of the city. While John has found more than 20 specimens of palms alone, all with distinct native names, he often stands very still and looks to the north-west, as if listening for the depths of the forest calling his name. While I am not sure that I will necessarily find such an abundance of lepidoptera upriver, I do know that the only sightings of my giant butterfly have been near Manaus, not down this far. Therefore, as much as I am stimulated here, I am impatient to move on also.
Ernie, too, complains that the most exotic birds do not exist so close to a city, although he has learned where to find them. When we first arrived he seemed to catch only the smaller and more common birds. Now he brings back exotic parrots and toucans and macaws. He is establishing a fine collection.
We have prepared our first consignment to send to Mr Ridewell — at last count we had 323 species of lepidoptera (butterflies mostly — I confess that moths hold little interest for me and George collected most of them), 400-odd beetles, 32 different species of bird, some lizards and snakes, and nine chests of plants, with countless dried seeds. Ernie plans to take live specimens back at the end of the trip. He wants to be able to accompany them, and he will dispose of them at various zoos with which he is in regular contact.
Nobody has taken to collecting the numerous great spiders that are about the place. There is one — a ghastly hairy thing it is — called a mygale, of which
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